


Monster of Man

by Cherry01



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Guilty Hanzo Shimada, Hanzo has Anxiety, Hanzo is an asshole, In short - Hanzo has always wanted children, Mentions of Pregnancy, Minor Character Death, Reader is a Support Hero, References to Depression, Self Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Some Fake Lore, Some angst, but Hanzo is not an Asshole(tm) to children, sad Hanzo is sad, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry01/pseuds/Cherry01
Summary: You had been there when Overwatch welcomed the archer in. A man who looked to have high expectations, and even more of expensive taste.High maintenance.He wasn’t exactly your type, if you were getting anything from the air around him.





	1. Young, But Never Free

He was never interested in the woman.

Hanzo had always known she felt the same way, and their relationship was purely platonic, despite needing to have a child together in order to keep the bloodline going. The way his father had looked at his mother, and the way his grandfather had at his wife before him. It was all the same dull stare. Neutrality, indifference of their current situation. Sometimes the young master wondered if there ever had been a feeling of love between the spouse and the next heir, but he could not submit himself to such fatuous thoughts. To allow the welcoming of freedom with love in the clan, he would be indirectly supporting Genji’s pursuits of seduction towards the other men and women of their establishment. His younger brother was a disgrace, and he could only convince the elders to cut him so much slack.

The memories brewed in his head, rested words he always wanted to say but never could on his tongue. Hanzo didn’t even know if he could speak them even after all these years to his ex-wife, lest he let out some sort of incoherent growl from the pit of his throat.

I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.

I’m sorry I could never love you.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Now that he thought of it, his younger self had never forgotten the idea of real love. To finally settle down, to be born in a family that didn’t train their sons to kill, didn’t tell their daughters to shut their mouths and carve their clay faces with false emotion. To actually desire someone and feel his stomach squeeze with anticipation of their first date together, the first time they kissed, the news of a healthy baby on it’s way.

But that wasn’t him. It wasn’t his life, and he is only hurting himself by thinking of it.

What child would want a murderer as their father anyways?

The room is quiet, but his mind is very loud between the walls of his small bunker. It is another one of those days, those hours he spends remembering all the good and bad, his ‘could’ve’ and ‘should’ve’s. In his makeshift living area he sits upon his calves, the orts of his previous meal settling on a plate before him. The dark wood of the old coffee table breathes and creaks with the weight of his arms over it.

In his small kitchen, a tea kettle begins to scream.

Hanzo does not hear it.

The first time he heard the news of a baby on the way, he’d actually grown excited. A promise of domesticity, or at least a probability of it. His father had hushed him, told him he wouldn’t be so happy after the first few times of waking up to wailing in the middle of the night. But Hanzo let himself be joyful. A chance to let his eldest son or daughter choose their own love, to let them play longer than he had ever the time to, dress them in fine clothing and spoil them with their favorite treats. To be the parental figure he always wanted. His wife was appreciative of his excitement, but did not agree with his ideals of how he wanted to treat the baby. She was very strict and would only accept the very best, after all, this was the hope of the future for the Shimada Clan.

He did not expect everything to fall so soon.

As on the fateful day of his precious child’s birth, 21 year old Hanzo was struck with the grief of losing both his heir and his wife in but a few hours.

The ride home was hard, and keeping it together when his father discussed finding him a new spouse so quickly was even harder. How could you brush away the life that never got to see the light of day so easily? Your grandchild, who your son had loved so dearly but had never gotten to meet?  
His wild temper had flicked towards his father through scorched fire that day, sparks escaping his clenched teeth in his outburst. Hanzo had yelled for an entire hour at his higher up, the leader of the Shimada Clan silenced in the shock of his normally calmed son.

The young master had expressed his feelings on domestic living, showing love to his child, and from the plumpness of his youthful lips came from the terrible secret of his thoughts, the wanting of freedom to desire who he married.  
His father had only said one thing to him to show his point, his disappointment in his son. He had such a prestigious way with his tone, his passive aggressive insult enough to break his son without fail.

“It was only one child.”

Hanzo had been quick to rush from the room the moment his eyes stung, slamming the door behind him. His hands could only wipe furiously at his tears with feet that heavily hit the ground, ignoring the judgemental stares of maids and butlers down the hallways of his home.

It was the first time Hanzo had ever cried in front of another man.

His pride was too loud in his ear for him to ever tell the story, but he was glad that the unspoken crime of the young master had never left the mouth of his younger brother. For even then, despite their long and harsh fight not two hours earlier, youthful Genji knew better than to stoop that low and insult him so brutally.

The story was never told, never left the walls of the bedroom he’d curled up and sobbed into his hands for. Disgraceful, weak, knees bent to keep the body in a fetal position across an expensive rug.  
The vague sight of the soft tufts through watery vision.  
He’d slowly rocked himself in his mourning, uncaring if his brother heard him in the few rooms over, too angry with the world to cover his temporary loss of masculinity if his father was to wander in.  
He did not know when Genji came in to pacify his dreadful sadness, but it was a caught moment of both peacefulness and devastation. The silent appreciation of having an understanding sibling without quarrel. The way his throat clenched and burned from the usage of the muscle trying to stop his occasional hiccups, eyes fat with tears. His lashes urged them down just as the hand of his younger brother did, palm flat to his back and hushing him. The devastation of mourning.

He did not leave his unborn child’s bedroom that night, and never got the chance to remarry with the fall of the empire to become.

When Hanzo returned to himself, the painful wheezing of the kettle had finally been loud enough to reach his ear, and he was silently grateful to it for saving him from his thoughts. He needed a good night’s rest.

Or some alcohol.

Definitely some alcohol.


	2. And it Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not your type, but definitely undeniably attractive.

You were in no way, a rookie.

 

You had joined Overwatch when it had been rebuilt once more, coming along with both old and new members. The way they held their stature, tall and mighty or silent and intimidating, it told a story of how much an old soldier had gone through from just a mere stare. You weren’t an oldie, but you definitely weren’t a newbie, so you supposed hanging around the ones stained with war stories would increase your knowledge on future survival. But the air here was so much different than the last group you had become one with to fight for a brighter future. It was like walking in a big, happy family.

 

And being invited into it, as well.

 

Connections with the people ran deep, and soon you had dropped your purely professional tone for purely professional talks. Everyone, friend or foe, still had a mutual understanding of one another. Genji had been the one to show you around and make you comfortable when you had first arrived as well, and in him you found a good friend. Though with the cyborg came his master, who was elated to find a human who believed in omnic rights as strongly as he.

There had been no reason to be nervous any longer.

 

You had been there when Overwatch welcomed the archer in. A man who looked to have high expectations, and even more of expensive taste. High maintenance. He wasn’t exactly your type, if you were getting anything from the air around him. But along him, you sensed great discomfort. It could easily be tracked back to how yourself felt getting off that ship, with a large group of eyes ready for an unwilling victim to judge thoroughly (kind of what you did to him, to be completely honest). Overwatch held families together though, unbound by blood but immensely happy with one another. Not that it was fun, the training and life threatening missions, but the one you fight beside reserves a greater bond than any other. There was no doubt that this middle aged man would find home between these kind people.

 

And boy, were you shocked at how incorrect you were.

 

He wasn’t unable to speak to people without choking up and seemed to hold desire of socializing with some. It wasn’t that he never opened his mouth or never spoke his mind (you knew this, as Genji had his quarters next to your’s, and they often fought in rapid Japanese in the early hours of morning. The cyborg always apologized profusely at a more appropriate hour though, so how could you be mad at him?). He was just never willing to become more acquainted with anybody, nor speak anything of his personal experiences. Understable, but also frustrating in a way of feeling continued neutrality towards him. The archer was like a long, empty cave that never seemed to end. Where are the riches hidden inside those walls?

 

It took only one night for you to figure out he was Genji’s brother, and another two weeks before you learned his name. Though, your way of introduction could have been a bit more professional other than the occasional friendly ‘hello!’ on the way to the cafeteria, and Hanzo seemed to be a man of high formality. 

 

Until you were deployed for a certain mission, you had not planned your interactions with Hanzo to be anything other than little greetings from across the room.

 

Another assumption made incorrectly.

 

The day was cloudy. A slight breeze rustled broken off leaves into wildly grown bushes, calling for thicker jackets and seasonal footwear. Your mission was here, simple and quick. To watch over this part of land, and make sure there weren’t any members of Los Muertos escaping here after being chased out of a city not far away by authorities. Information received of them had been collected, and apparently the general part of them had little to no military training. Most of them only knew how to swing a bat and let the nails in it do the work for them. Probably just a bunch of teen gangster wannabes. An easy task, really.

 

If Hanzo hadn’t have been  _ fucking crazy. _

 

You were still sensitive to the cold, as you’d just been flown from a hot place to a cooler one. The archer had been assigned with you as a valued sniper, packed and ready to be spending five nights with a peer in an abandoned warehouse. With no heating. And absolutely no forgiveness during icy nights.

 

**SO WHY WAS HE STILL WEARING A SHIRT THAT BARED HALF HIS CHEST?**

 

You’d expected him to change before getting off, but instead he just walked off the airship alongside you, not even giving the chilly winds a flinch despite his dragon tattooed titty hanging out. How does someone _ do _ that?

 

Your gawking expression must’ve been noticed by him, because he had stopped walking in order to observe your features. His confusion on the situation made your brain tilt even more.

 

“Is something the matter?”  _ I don’t know Hanzo, maybe you should ask your left nipple. _

 

Swallowing down your sarcasm, you tried filtering your words in more well spoken fashion.

 

“No, Mr.Shimada. I was concerned for your state of dress, won’t you be getting cold in that outfit?” Your lightly gloved finger had pointed to his kyudo-gi, which flaunted his chest rather well. When he chuckled, you were a bit taken aback.

 

His eyes had crinkled at the edges in flattery from your worries, the gleam against his irises like a rare jewel. The sound of your surname was the only thing that broke you from being practically hypnotized by them. Not your type, but definitely undeniably attractive.

 

“I will be fine. I have packed other clothing in case the temperatures drop beyond my comfort level.”

 

A firm nod of your head settled the conversation.

 

Now, where was that map again?


	3. A Good Sense of Humor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Um,” you couldn’t help the immature sounding giggle from entering your voice when you continued, “have you ever seen the actual real life cowboy on base?”
> 
>  
> 
> Either he must’ve leaned forward or the lights from your arms had burned brighter, because you could suddenly completely see how terribly confused his expression was. His eyes looked about ready to pop from his head, mouth breathing unspoken words for a moment before seeming to decide what to say.
> 
>  
> 
> “That was an agent?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I didn't have much to do for these past few days, so I decided to upload a chapter early °+(*´∀｀)ｂ°+°
> 
> I've never really done a big project like this, so please let me know about anything I can work on or even some ideas for the story if you're feeling inspired.
> 
> Thanks so much for taking time out of your day for reading this, as well. I'll see you guys next week! <33

In Overwatch’s new development, a fresh class system was established as well. 

 

You see, beforehand, when there were so many new recruits coming and leaving it was easy to just let the commanders place their trainees into groups that complimented each other. Doing this, a higher up would write a short summary of a certain recruit’s strengths and weaknesses, and then find another who could make up for such deficiency of skill.

 

This was one of the systems that had a say in the downfall of the organization. The paperwork for this option took much too long, and with the already flying in requests to work for the highest looked upon services in the world, they closed down the hiring of rookies all together. Money began to run low from the government’s loss of payment, there were unwanted criminal appearances in places agents couldn’t travel to legally, and with the tension between two founders who were once close friends everything was bound to go wrong. Masses of agents were put into unemployment because they could no longer pay for their time, and the Golden Poster Boy’s reputation went down the drain with the media.

 

Overwatch had already been burning down long before it actually did.

 

Now, with the small number of trusted old soldiers and young minds, they had to do everything they could to make sure that the groups sent out were balanced. So they developed a class system. Offense, defense, tank, and support. They were all close enough to have knowledge of each other’s strengths and weaknesses, but needed a name, a category to put someone in. A box, if you will.

 

You happened to be sitting in the support box.

 

Winston’s idea to recruit you had come from your advanced knowledge in physical and mental health. The high end technology from the past company you worked for had astronomical results for those who knew how to wield it, and there was no questions asked once you were recruited by Overwatch that you would be sponsored. It was a risky move, especially since Overwatch was still an illegal establishment and your company could be sued for supporting it, but the people there were passionate that you could bring good into the world. Saving the planet would just need to keep a low profile for now.

The machinery customly made to fit your arms had a regal glow to it, rose gold being a strongly liked color upon your colleagues who founded your association. It was obviously incredibly well made, the gold metal decorated with fancy embroidered rose colored swirls upside your arms. It made rings around your fingers, and where the tech met on your palms was a rounded cyan blue jewel. It glimmered dangerously, like the barrel of a gun.

But you knew where you could always grow in your skill, and you weren’t an asshole about it. One of your best aspects was keeping your team supported, one of your worst being your merely average aim with a gun.

 

“You’re in the defense class, yes?”

 

The simple question was harmless, but it seemed to bristle the Shimada a bit to be categorized. Still, despite his obvious slight discomfort, he nodded his head. It must be harder to be put into a group rather than seen for your actual ability, but you had never seen the point in being a show off or hotshot.

 

You met up on the second of three floors of the old warehouse, letting out an extremely relieved sigh at the sight to behold that was a relatively clean large room. There wasn’t water leaking from the ceiling, no mold on the walls, and the floors weren’t too covered in debris to place a makeshift sleeping area over. Your partner had seemed rather consoled by this occurrence as well, seeing as he probably wanted to stay relatively clean for the majority of the five day mission.

 

What you figured out in that moment, sitting on a long sheet over the flooring across from one another, was that Hanzo obviously worked alone before this.

His lips worked into a thin straight line, eyebrows leaving indents on his forehead from how concentrated he seemed. His stature was confident, and the air left off of his person was thick with confidence. He hadn’t done this in a long time, planned with another person before taking action. It was almost like he was challenging you to even be in range of his expectations.

 

High Maintenance.

 

“The weather here is going to be unpredictable and there’s a good chance it’ll snow overnight, so it’s best to be inside the building by sundown. I can keep watch over you from the sidelines, but that door will be wide open for anybody to walk in.”

 

The second level that you two currently were held in had a three small windows in each side, big enough to get a good shot out of, but small enough to have a blind spot right below it. It was a big help that some of them were already broken in, but that left your remaining concern. Your vulnerabilities were very clear here, and he seemed to understand that. Threats had six different openings to shoot their way into, and the lock to the warehouse’s door wasn’t exactly one of sturdiness. You could take care of yourself, but that wasn’t to say that your pistol could do as much as Hanzo’s bow.

 

But that didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest.

 

“It was stated that the ‘threats’ had little to no knowledge in military training. It will not be an issue.” Whether or not it was the prickly-polite attitude or the fiery way he looked down on you that made your person uneasy, you would never know. But it only pushed you to test him in return.

 

“A general part of them don’t,” you pressed, “but that still doesn’t leave a chance that some of them do.” 

 

“I am fully capable of taking them down.”

 

Words mixed around in your head, and you wondered how you could provide support for such an independent man. Would the offering of your assistance offend him? Unconsciously, your posture grew straighter in an attempt to look larger, but your voice still sounded as if it were asking for an invitation more than anything. You weren’t going to suck up to some guy just because he thinks he’s a hotshot, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t meet him halfway.

 

“Just don’t be afraid to gimme a shout if you’re caught off guard. Sometimes it has nothing to do with skill, the element of surprise can be a big strength in itself. I’m here to keep you healed.”

 

There was a silence from both of you for a moment, a drifting by thought in your head wondering if he would give more input.

 

“Yes,” he nodded firmly, body still in it’s formal way of sitting, “Your concern in appreciated.”

 

Your message was received in the way you hoped.

 

The tension lessens the slightest bit.

 

 

It was only when the sun began to curl up behind tall trees and the sky began to take on a golden-orange tinge that the real mission would begin. Nothing good ever happened after dark, it was what your parents would always tell you when you wanted to stay out late.

 

And how correct they were.

 

The moon was for silencing the world, and along with it, the actions of people. Shadows were created to hide awaiting bodies and icy winds whistled to support the lightness in one’s step. Night was when the rebellions would rise and shady people could thrive.

 

Which is why when you and Hanzo were returning from your awkwardly silent wandering to get a lay of the land, he suggested keeping quiet when you approached the warehouse again as to not alert unwanted visitors. Checking for hiding spots and how to arrange his scatter arrows to bounce off of an object and hit targets wasn’t exactly what you called a fun day, but since when was a mission ever meant to be fun?

 

You were silently grateful for the small hue of light that your arms gave off in that moment, a light rose color dancing over greenery and showing the root covered ground as you walked it. Hanzo moved to let you pass in front of him so you could show the tight pathway ahead, his footsteps much more trained in sounding soft than your own. There was no direct trail to follow, and you could only hope that it was just light enough for Hanzo to see so he wouldn’t trip. A swollen ankle wouldn’t help one’s journey anywhere.

 

Tilting your head to the side, you could see that your partner had an arrow nocked. His shoulders were set forward, and his muscles looked tightened as a way of bracing themselves for action.

 

Anxious.

 

While Hanzo was a person so formal it made your teeth rot, it was still highly recommended to be on at least an acquaintance level of relationship with the person you fought with.

 

Especially if they’re hands are the only ones your life is being held in.

 

“Your bow,” you’d started, staring forward to focus on the darkened features of the forest, “it takes a lot of strength to master.”

 

Specifically upper body strength, which could be told at any glance of Hanzo’s that he obviously had experience with. He must be pretty good at what he does to be sent as your one defense mechanism against others, but Genji had praised him for his way of the sword rather than one of archery when you asked. A change of weapons from two completely different fields wasn’t a thing that happened often, but it was possible.

 

Perhaps he’d learned them at the same time.

 

Behind you, Hanzo had grunted in affirmation, giving a disgustingly polite ‘indeed’ to prove he was listening.

 

Well, he was still as approaching as a cactus, wasn’t he?

 

Understandable. If you had to be the one to lead the conversation, then you would. There was absolutely _ no way _ you were going to spend the next five days with a guy that you can’t even ask to play a simple game of cards with when hours drew long. It was already hard enough to try and stay professional with someone new, but he was so…

 

Proper.

 

Prissy.

 

_ High Maintenance. _

 

And you had a thing that you couldn’t really ignore, which was something called A Good Sense of Humor.

 

Hanzo telling a joke isn’t even something that could be made an image in your head, which in itself could be found funny.

 

But still, you trudged on.

 

“I’m sure Agent McCree has already expressed his opinion on it. He’s a fan of old fashioned, but more of a advocate for guns.”

 

The confused tone in your partner’s voice was evident, and you considered looking behind you to see an expression that was anything else than stern, but remembered it would be too dark to show anyways.

 

“I have received a few comments on it, but I must ask. Which one is Agent McCree?”

 

A laugh almost bubbled from your throat, and you actually had to stop walking to contain your amusement with your hand. Vaguely, you could see that the Shimada’s figure had stopped behind you through the corner of your eye, as you’d turned your body to the side slightly in your excitement to look at him.

 

Sadly for you though, Hanzo still had view of your face despite the darkness, since the faint light coming from your arms glowed against your skin.

 

The shock at your reaction oozed from him.

 

How anybody could  _ not _ know who Agent McCree was, was the real question.

 

“Um,” you couldn’t help the immature sounding giggle from entering your voice when you continued, “have you ever seen the actual real life cowboy on base?”

 

Either he must’ve leaned forward or the lights from your arms had burned brighter, because you could suddenly completely see how terribly confused his expression was. His eyes looked about ready to pop from his head, mouth breathing unspoken words for a moment before seeming to decide what to say.

 

“That was an agent?”

 

It was just too funny to imagine that Hanzo had _ literally  _ accepted the fact that there might be some random dwelling cowboy at Gibraltar base, of all places in the world for there to be one, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Your laughter sounded loudly throughout the area, and if you weren’t so busy trying to clear your eyes from tears of hilarity you might’ve noticed your partner’s immediate existential crisis.

 

“What sort of missions could you even send someone so...garish?”

 

His continued response only gave more life to the amused snorts from beneath your hand, and pulling yourself together harder.

 

“Mostly on stealth missions, if we’re being real here.”

 

_ “Stealth missions? _ I cannot decide whether his outfit or his voice is louder!”

 

“Oh, lighten up,” you said, moving to walk forward once again, “Jesse’s a good guy to sit down and have a drink with once you get to know him.”

 

“He looks as if he walked straight from an old western film.”

 

“If that was meant to be an insult towards him, then I think you’ll have to work harder.”

 

 

The mood from the walk had brightened significantly, and for a moment you’d thought that it was going to stay that way.

 

You should’ve known though, since the moment the both of you approached the warehouse, Hanzo’s shoulders tightened once again.

 

Whispers turned silent, hand movements were thrown on who was to check from where for intruders first, and eventually your partner was scaling the side of the building to the top floor. You had been left at the entrance, unlocking the door as silently as possible before letting the metal door creak open with a groan.

 

Right now, you were in charge.

 

Your pistol was pulled from it’s holster at your belt, attached flashlight clicking on, and then the slow and thorough check of the bottom level began.

 

It felt strange, as a support class, to be waving a gun all over the place. But you supposed that it was going to happen at some point. Not that you’d expected to be alone for it with your kind of aim, but still.

 

With the metal door to the warehouse shut tight behind your person, you were completely isolated with anything that had happened to wander in here. Sure, the door was still locked when you returned, but that didn’t mean that some lowlife didn’t know how to climb. Despite those thugs not having a lot of experience with hand to hand combat, they knew how to make do with anything they had around them. In your time, you’d seen some wacky weapons that you couldn’t figure out how to work for your life, but they knew how to use perfectly.

 

With any and all hiding places clear on the first floor, your anxiety level lowered with the next. It was still a very large, open room with less debris than downstairs. Some metal scraps you hadn’t noticed before without the light were scattered around in a darkened corner, and in the other right across it, the long sheet that you and Hanzo had had a little meeting on. Both of your bags were still tucked neatly underneath some broken chairs below the next stairway upwards, but you heard no noise coming from above you.

 

There was a brief second you wondered if Hanzo was alright, as you’d remembered him climbing up to the third story’s window to check it out. But his footsteps were very much lighter than your own, and there was no doubt he could get through one or two people in the time it would take them to register he was ever even there.

 

Still. It wouldn’t hurt to see if he was okay, would it? It was your job to keep him protected, after all.

 

So you placed your foot on the first metal stair and felt the strain on it when it squeaked warningly. Your face formed into a wince unconsciously, knowing for sure that if Hanzo was any of the assassin he was supposed to be he would’ve heard that. And yet you still climbed on, skipping some of the steps you believed to be the most fragile, leaning most of your weight on a metal railing that didn’t seem much sturdier.

 

You suddenly felt very happy that your partner had taken to checking this level, because this one was very anxiety inducing. 

 

There were many hallways and rooms on this one, and you could see now one of the reasons it was abandoned, because whoever made the damn building didn’t know how to make rooms that  _ didn’t _ seem like they were assorted into a maze. Any company that must’ve worked here previously had to have had their own employees get lost in here at some point.

 

It was also the biggest wreck out of every other story. And you mean really bad. You silently took a second to thank your parental figure for always chastising you for not cleaning your room as a child, because it was just horrid. Even for an abandoned place, people could prohibit themselves from throwing things made of glass across the floor and leaving the scraps of their latest inventions (abominations) all over counters.

 

All of the windows were broken in, and the ominous whistles from the ever more aggressive wind outside didn’t make the situation any better.

 

From the looks of the terrible architecture though, it wouldn’t take a genius to see that this was the main seating area. Or maybe even a waiting room. Who knows what kind of establishment this used to be.

 

It was clear enough to not have any hiding spots, but that was only because there was so much little shit scattered everywhere that there wasn’t room for any big shit to hide behind in the first place. Or under. You weren’t sure that even if you were a thug on the run that you’d hide under a larger structure in here, everything looks about ready to fall apart if it isn’t already.

 

With a determination to help a partner who might be in need, you wandered on to the next room. Avoiding the glass littering the floor as not to be too loud wasn’t easy, and you’d already let your presence be known with the unstable stairs, but it was better than letting your enemy know where you were at all times.

 

The flashlight on your gun showed the first long hallway ahead, and a series of three doors on each side. In the light of the moon from the seating area it almost looked like a set up haunted house, like some of those cheap ones on Halloween that people would grab a quick few bucks for creating.

 

The walls’ paint was chipped heavily, sometimes so deeply that you could see the brick peeking through. And if that wasn’t the end of it, the doors were obviously abused as well, some of them torn at the very edges of their wood.

 

All open.

 

Creepy.

 

You started with the room on the right, checking the doorway across from it before completely submerging yourself into the darkness.

 

A faxing room. Printers old and broken lined the sides of the walls, two filing cabinets lined up at the end for a symmetrical effect. It didn’t achieve it very well, since both of them were knocked over in different directions. Papers were strewn everywhere, and you took a moment to feel bad for all those trees. Must be a really old place if they had to use paper for keeping all their data.

 

It was a no brainer that this room had no place to hide in, so you made progress to the next one over after closing the door. If you were to get lost up here, you’d need to know where you’d already explored to not repeat your actions.

 

You’d vaguely seen some of the things in this office, just from shining your flashlight over to make sure nobody was in the doorway during your quest to explore the faxing room. And it was exactly what it was previously mentioned to be. An office.

The desk had worn down pencils from a broken mug across stacks of faded paper, and the chair had long since fallen apart. It smelled incredibly musty, the dust bringing a few muffled sneezes from you before you could even get to work with looking around.

 

Another filing cabinet, a bunch of junk underneath the desk, a big whiteboard on the wall that had some barely legible notes on it. The person must’ve given up on whatever they were writing halfway through though, because there was just the smudged word ‘NO’ written in red right in the middle of it. Someone didn’t like their job. Maybe they were the employee that got lost in their maze of a workplace.

 

You were about to make your way out of the office, flicking your flashlight in the direction it need be as you turned around, when you noticed something.

 

The faxing room’s door was wide open.

 

You had closed it on your way out.

 

There were many different causes that could’ve had this effect. The wind was crazy outside, and though the windows were a little far from the first row of doors in the hallway, it didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Hanzo could just happening to pass by, but he would’ve said something if he’d noticed you, right? It was nearly impossible to sneak up on the guy, and you were pretty sure that if you did that there’d be an arrow to your face in a record amount of time.

 

There were so many causes that could’ve had this effect, but most of the solutions to them led to the same answer.

 

Someone was up here with you.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends and welcome to the wacky ride of my first fanfic that includes more than one sit down of work. Buckle up, because this is probably gonna be a super bumpy road. These first two chapters will be short, but they will definitely get longer over time, forgive me.
> 
> My update days are put very lightly, because if I get high stress or anxiety then I will not force myself to do so.
> 
> Mondays-Tuesdays
> 
> Enjoy your ride lovelies! o.(+･`ω･+).o


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